I've been writing in this journal for very nearly five years now. Yeah, seriously. It's changed pretty dramatically in scope from its earliest days, and has changed format and tone and content and purpose many times over the years. Part of the reason for this phenomenon is that while the idea of a journal is something somewhat private and personal, the fact of the matter is that by publishing on the internet, I make this journal as public as the public wants to make it. (This occasionally means that it is way more public than I would like it to be, which has led to at least one crazy fiasco. You know what I mean.)
So as a result, I constantly struggle with putting myself out there, but in a form that's agreeable or even palatable to the reading public. This struggle often leads to gaps in posting as I re-evaluate my approach to what I'm doing here. Yeah, I know, I take this way too seriously. But since I can't get anyone to draw my comics, this place is the only way I can get any form of my writing out there, so, yeah, I take it a little seriously.
Which is why I take it so, so personally when someone who has added me to their friends list drops me with no explanation. I get really paranoid about that, man. Like, "OH CRAP WHAT DID I DO" thinking I've totally offended somebody for some reason. Or worse, that I've bored them so much that it was offensive. That hurts, dude.
I'm the kind of person who would rather know something like that. Like, if you were my friend and you were mad at me, I'd much rather you tell me straight out what I did than pretend it didn't happen and let it fester under the surface, killing me slowly like a hairline fracture in my secret cyanide tooth.
So a note for the future: if you're going to drop me from your friends list, leave me a comment that says "U SUCK" or "ur boring" or "I found your comment about the phrase 'nigga, please' to be racially insensitive" OR SOMETHING rather than leaving me to sweat what I did wrong the whole time. I mean, holy crow, guys, it's the night of my first kiss all over again. (This is a story you didn't see because I quit writing Hug Salesman. Remember those? Oh, nostalgia.)
So to sum up, to those people who have in the past dropped me without a word, since I know you can no longer see this because you don't care and there is little chance for rebuttal:
YOU ARE A HORRIBLE PERSON WHO REALLY HURT MY FEELINGS AND I HATE YOU FOR IT AND I WAS PROBABLY LYING THAT TIME I SAID SOMETHING NICE ABOUT YOUR KID OR YOUR COMIC OR WHATEVER AND THEY ARE ACTUALLY SUB-AVERAGE IN TERMS OF ATTRACTIVENESS OR QUALITY IN FACT.
Okay, I feel better. Thanks!
And now, what you all Chris Piers have been waiting for...another True Story from Benito's LCS!
If comics have taught me anything, it's this:
"You can't pin a medal on a gorilla!"
Why is that? Because gorillas are totally dangerous, dude. This is a lesson I felt I needed to impart upon America's youth. It is not a lesson you can learn from video games (except Donkey Kong).
A young child, maybe eight or nine, walks past a case of statues.
KID: Whoa, look at that statue! What is that of?
ME: That is the Flash, totally knocking out Gorilla Grodd.
KID: How heavy do you think that is?
ME: It is totally heavy. So heavy, in fact, that no ordinary person can pick it up.
KID: Then how do they move it if someone wants to buy it?
ME: They don't. You have to order it in advance.
ME: Because it's so heavy that they have to rent an actual gorilla to move it for them.
KID: WHAT? Really?
ME: Yeah, dude. They get a gorilla from the zoo to come in and move that statue from the case to your car. Or in your case, your mom's car.
KID: A real gorilla?
ME: A for rilla gorilla.
KID: Can they get it to come in today?
ME: No, man, you weren't listening. It takes a week to process all the paperwork and stuff.
KID: Then can they get a gorilla to come in next week so I can see it?
ME: Are you going to buy the statue?
KID: No, but I want to see the gorilla!
ME: Man, you can't just cry wolf and screw around with a gorilla. Gorillas are no joke, dude.
KID: What do you mean?
ME: Gorillas are really, really dangerous!
KID: Nah uh! Really?
ME: Yes! A gorilla killed my dad!
KID: Wow, what?! How did a gorilla kill your dad?
ME: My dad just got the gorilla so angry, the gorilla just up and shot him.
KID: A gorilla SHOT your dad?
ME: Yeah, dude. A gorilla shot my dad.
KID: But...gorillas don't have opposable thumbs! [ed. Good that he knows the concept of opposable thumbs; bad that he thought gorillas didn't have them.]
ME: Maybe not good enough for a thumb war tournament, but good enough to destroy my family.
KID: I'm sorry.
ME: Well, as long as you've learned an important lesson here, all is forgiven.
True story, ess to gee.
I probably had some other things to say, but...eh.